


Day One (RAFAEL BARBA)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>part one of the personal assistant au: “your last personal assistant was seen running out of your building with a cat under their arm and one of their shoes missing and I don’t know why I still applied even after that”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day One (RAFAEL BARBA)

When you woke up on your first day of work, you hated yourself. Why had you applied? Because your friend had begged you to? Because they cried when you told them no?

Probably.

But, still. You could have told them you were applying and then, you know, not apply? That’s what you should have done, especially after what your friend had told you about the job.

“You know, Mr. Barba isn’t that bad!” They swore, “I promise. Like, okay. Don’t look him up because you’re going to see this picture- it’s a joke really- his last assistant was a mess, right? And this guy ran out of Mr. Barba’s apartment without his shoe and his cat- not Mr. Barba’s, by the way, and how funny is that?” Your friend took a moment to laugh somewhat hysterically before continuing, “What a way to quit! Of course he wanted a scene, Mr. Barba is the best ADA in Manhattan, and the most handsome. You’ll love working for him.”

You leaned back in your chair at the bar and quirked an eyebrow, “So why don’t you take the job?”

Your friend flushed, but you still agreed to apply. Why did you agree? You knew that your resume was better than your friends so unless there was another candidate better fit than you, you’d get the job.

And get the job you did.

That’s why you were shaking in your boots standing outside of your office door as you listened to Mr. Barba scream down the phone at someone. You heard him slam his fist on something and begin muttering in Spanish, so you took that as a go ahead. You entered and lost your breath. Mr. Barba was as handsome as your friend told you that he was. He was red faced and heaving and an eyebrow twitched upward and he pursed his lips.

“Mr. Barba?” You said, “I’m your personal assistant.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Barba said, “First things first, you’re not to call me Mr. Barba. You’re not my colleague, you’re my assistant. Call me Rafael. Come, sit, do you want a drink?” You sat and nodded as Rafael poured you a sharp glass of bourbon and handed it to you. Why had his last assistant quit in such a flurry? Rafael seemed nice enough as he sat across from you, sipping his own glass of alcohol. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories and seen the pictures,” Rafael narrowed his eyes, “I want to assure you that I am nothing like the stories.”

Nervously, you gulped down the rest of your bourbon and nodded, “Yes, sir, I’ve seen them. Heard them. I can tell you’re nothing like the stories.”

“Don’t call me sir,” Rafael said quickly.

“Okay, Rafael.” You nodded, furrowing your brow as he eyed you, “You’re nothing like the stories I hear.”

“I’m an ADA with a sex crimes unit. The people like to talk.” He smirked at you and you laughed, if only to boost his ego and keep yourself on his good side. You could tell from the way his voice boomed over the phone that he was a man with a temper and a man with a memory. You smiled at him after passing the empty glass to his hands.

“Well, Rafael, what do you want me to do first? I am your assistant, after all.”


End file.
